Welcome to KISS KISS. We are a London-based magazine exploring romance in all its complexity, not the fairy tale, but the messy, lived experience. KISS KISS traces the many ways intimacy shapes our lives, challenging how we think about romance, identity, and connection. Stylish, intelligent, and unafraid to look at love with open eyes. KISS KISS moves through four movements: The Rush, The Routine, The Reckoning, and The Repair. From first-date nerves and situationships to secure intimacy, toxic patterns, and heartbreak, we trace the ways love shapes our lives today. Inside, you will find personal stories, cultural observations, and reflections on identity and desire. We explore the thrill of attraction in Scent or a Scam? The Truth About “Pheromone Perfume” (p.12), the comfort of routine in Garlic Bread is Better Than Sex (p.32), the challenges of obsession in Are We Dating… or Just Replaying? (p.40), and the subtle art of reinvention in How Dementia Changes Love (p.60). Fashion, culture, emotion, and love intersect here, reflecting how a generation fluent in the modern digital world experiences romance. This magazine doesn’t romanticise love. It documents it unapologetically, honestly, and with style. Because even in a world of fleeting moments, love is still urgent, still compelling, and still worth noticing. Kiss Kiss invites you on this journey. We hope you enjoy this first issue as much as we do.
The resurgence of oracle cards is not happening in isolation. Their popularity mirrors a broader Gen Z search for meaning in a dating culture defined by ambiguity, situationships, soft launches and emotional half-commitments that rarely come with explanation or closure. During the pandemic, tarot and oracle readings surged across TikTok, often framed with captions like “if this finds you, it's meant for you.” For many, the messages felt uncannily specific, a reflection of both algorithm and emotion.
In a time when romantic outcomes are rarely clear, the cards provide what many relationships do not: a sense that events unfold for a reason, even when they do not last. They do not remove uncertainty. They organise it. The appeal is not only in what the cards reveal, but in what they make possible: a structure for feeling, a ritual for waiting, a way of making the unknown briefly manageable.
Aleysha wants to be married by twenty-five. This is not a vague aspiration but a logistical plan. She has already chosen the venue, the ring, the dress and the guest list. The only missing element is the groom. "The man is not the most important part. What matters is alignment, values, intention, timing. The rest will arrive when it is meant to," says Aleysha.
The cards, in this context, are less romantic than they are strategic. They do not help her fantasise about love; they regulate access to it. She does not wait to be chosen. She consults a system that decides whether someone is worth accommodating into a life plan that is already complete. For Aleysha, marriage is inevitable. The mystery, apparently, is optional.
The reading unfolds with practised ease. The gestures are familiar, repeated over years of shared experience. Whether it is faith or simply a method of managing romance remains unclear. What is visible, however, is the function it serves. The cards are never pulled alone. They sit between friends, between doubt and hope, between impulse and restraint. Less a search for answers than a shared way of navigating love.
When the reading ends, the candles are blown out. The deck is put away. Life resumes. The question that lingered in her mind had been answered. The chapter was ready to be closed.
Aleysha did not text him that night. The cards did not approve.
“People already know the answer, the cards just help them see it”